


Neon Bloodsplatters and Teacups

by mrsatrocity



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mentor/Protégé, Music Lessons, Sex, assassin romance, visiting old friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-05-16 01:57:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19308301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsatrocity/pseuds/mrsatrocity
Summary: John pays a visit to what is possibly the last safehouse on his list and comes in contact with his old protege. They have tea and very serious conversations.





	1. Far From Home

The condo sat on the outer edge of East New York City. Its red brick exterior was rather clean, as if it had been powerwashed recently. The front steps were debris free except for a few day's worth of newspapers that had piled up. This was it. If she was still alive this is definitely where she would be found. He climbed the steps up to the heavily barred door and pressed the call button with his thumb.   
There came a buzzing sound that was followed by some rustling and scratching through the receiver. 

"The door's open. Fifth floor," came a soft voice from the speaker followed by another buzz that signaled that the door was unlocked. He grasped the handle firmly and let himself inside. The interior was clean, but plain. Unremarkable wall tiles and a single table were the only decorations here. To the left there was an elevator which took him to the floor in question. As he rode the short trip it occurred to him that the voice never gave the room number. And when he stepped off he realized that those instructions were not necessary.

The door number was 521 and it was surrounded by pink Christmas lights with a pink heart-shaped welcome mat.  _Of course,_ he thought remembering  _her, She always liked hearts._ Happy Jpop music could be heard coming from the door and possibly the smell of cookies, he couldn't tell. John reached out and knocked loudly. "Just a minute!" a husky femme voice called out and footsteps could be heard. The door opened to reveal a young woman, somewhat tall and dark skinned wearing what could only be described as short pink clothing. She had bandages around her neck and upper thighs that appeared to be fresh, as if they changed recently.

She tapped her pink acrylic nails against the door impatiently, "Are you going to come in or not?" she inquired, placing a hand on her hip. 

"Sorry," he gruffed as he hurried inside and she shut the door behind him. John wasn't usually taken back by appearances, but this seemed to be a special case. After all, he hadn't seen Amara in over 10 years.

"Don't forget to take your shoes off at the door," Amara reminded him, as she sauntered out of view, pink hair bouncing behind her. He could hear some things being moved around in what might have been the kitchen. A wafting smell of fresh baked cookies reached his senses and gave him a sense of comfort. He remembered that Amara loved baking cookies all those years ago, good to see that those habits held up over time.

The condo was clean and well furnished, well lit, and tasted like diabetes. Heart-shaped decor was everywhere. Cute anime figurines were displayed in a glass case on the wall next to a giant lava lamp with red lava. The floor was white tiled and spotless. It almost seemed girlish and immature to the untrained eye, but John could tell the various weapons that had been expertly hidden around the living room, including a fully-functional blinged out pink M-16 and a stack of magazines right next to the sofa. They were mostly for show, mostly.

"I wasn't expecting to see you after all these years," Amara came back into view with a plate of decorated sugar cookies, "Come on, we have a lot to talk about, don't we?" She lead him with a bit of pep to her step to what seemed to be her bedroom. One of the walls in her room was an entire window with red curtains, that was the first thing he noticed. Amara seemed very fond of sweet decor: her large canopy bed was tucked away in a corner with draping pink and white curtains, plush carpet was just about everywhere except for a large patch in front of the glass wall. All of the walls were painted an agreeable shade of pink and decorated with various specially chosen Renaissance paintings. _Copies, but very good copies_ , he noted that she had The Three Graces but not Birth of Venus.

"Ahem!" Amara brought his attention back to the present. She had already seated herself at a square tea table that was prepared for two. She gestured to what could only be his seat and he sat himself down, hiking up his suit-pants a bit in the process. The softness of the chair made him a bit uncomfortable. The small yet ornate spread of miniature sandwiches and tea cakes weren't appealing to him at the moment but he didn't want to be rude and helped himself to a few. 

"The tea is just hibiscus for now. I haven't gone shopping in a while," Amara explained while pouring herself a cup from a teapot covered in hearts. She placed the pot down with a deep breath and a sigh. "So what brings you here? You're not fond of visiting." She fixed him a glare, dropping the pleasantries and cocking her head to the side. He noted her visible temple was shaved and dyed a pale pink.

"I need Sanctuary," he finally responded after a heavy pause, "A...lot of things have happened--"

"I know," she snapped, setting her teacup gently on the heart-shaped saucer in front of her, "You don't think I know? Word travels, John!" And just as delicately as she placed the cup down, she picked up a teacake and bit into it. "And why me?"

"You know why, Mara--" he began.

"Don't tell me your exploits turned everyone against you," she nearly scoffed but softened her tone. Her eyes softened a bit and she looked down at her cup of tea. He knew why she was angry with him and wouldn't blame her. He just hoped she wouldn't turn him down just this once.

 _Cling Cling o tete tsunai deru_  
_kimi to atashi no runrunrun_

This song was one of her favorites, he remembered. There was a lot of history in the fourteen years he had known her and four years he had mentored her. She was always fond of peppy Jpop music. Back then he couldn't stand the stuff but now it brought back good memories. Seeing she was safe and living well gave him a sense of happiness. They were kind of happy back then, weren't they? He thought back to when he met Helen, _that_ was happiness. Whatever it was he wanted to call his past with Amara...it wasn't...

He lifted the cup off the saucer and suddenly realized the tea had been poured in the shape of a heart. Symbols where everywhere. The sound of a clinking spoon made his eyes dart back to the woman in front of him. Amara was stirring milk and sugar into her tea before taking a sip. "So...how long you staying for?" she asked smoothly, completely ignoring the outburst of earlier. 

"About a month," came his curt reply.

"A month?" she raised her eyebrows in surprise, "That's not what I expected." Amara pursed her lips together in  a mock shocked expression.

"Shorter?" he offered.

"It's not a problem," she held up a hand, "I did say we had some talking to do, so...let's talk." She placed the cup down and put her elbows on the table, clasping her hands together under her chin. 

"Okay, we can talk," he agreed.


	2. A Kept Man

 

John was relieved that Amara wasn't immediately going to kill him. Nor did she turn him away. Instead of a harsh reunion they were having tea in front of a large window in a quiet condominium. The cakes and sandwiches were rather delicious and the tea had good flavor. She had become a woman of taste...sort of. Her gyaru fashion sense, girly decorating skills, and fondness for the color pink were unchanged after the 14 years that had passed. And if anything she hadn't changed much either. Her appearance hadn't changed except her eyes were tired and full of knowledge she didn't wish to obtain. Perhaps dropping her off at Ruska Roma was not the best idea. She had been fourteen when he left her there and 24 when he came back. He remembered her saying it was the best and worst ten years of her life.

"Do you have any coins?" Amara was asking him between sandwich bites. She held out her hand. John sighed and deposited two gold coins into her palm with a heavy clink.

"You always told me to take payment first," she countered, making the lewd motion for sex with her spoon and left hand.

"Wait, I never told you---" he was taken aback by her response. He never encouraged her to do sex work.

"Oh wait, that was the Director," she corrected absentmindedly, tapping her chin in thought.

"She pimped you out?!" he was seething underneath his exterior. He knew what went on under The Director's roof. He had lived there himself for many years. There was nothing to be surprised about. It was already done.

"Only when I made more than five mistakes in a solo lesson, which was often," came her crass reply, "First night I was there she had one of the older boys do it." She giggled at John's quiet horrified expression. "Don't worry," she added, "He apologized later. She asked my age first." That wasn't very reassuring. She was already too old to be a trained ballerina but the Director trained her relentlessly. He remembered seeing a video of her performing several years back, one almost couldn't tell the difference,  _almost._

"And what made you end up here?" he gestured to the room we were in.

"You don't know?" she stood up with a quizzical expression, "I thought you put me up here." She walked over to what looked like a grandfather clock, one of the few non-pink items in the room and pushed it aside to reveal a safe that she opened. After rummaging around for a second she pulled out a Marker and a small stack of papers and brought them back to the table. "Here", she pushed them towards him, "I'm sure these will jog your memory."

 The Marker was from Winston, the letters told him that much. And who wrote the letters? It was John himself. He had pleaded with Winston years earlier to give lodging to Amara and the man seemed to take it as a lifelong thing.  _So long as she doesn't partake in any business,_ was a parting line in one of them. So she has not been doing business for a while it seemed. He dropped the last letter on the pile and looked at the Marker one last time before placing it on top of that. 

"As you know, I'm not an assassin. Not a practicing one at least," Amara called out from behind a wooden room service cart she was pushing into the room. "So instead I run a safehouse of sorts. It's not very big and not many people know about it, except you." She explained pointedly as she began clearing off the table. As she bent over he noticed her cleavage spilling out a bit from her low cut dress.

"Don't get too excited," she murmured without looking up from what she was doing, "It's just a pushup bra." She was clever as always. He hadn't realized that she had gained a figure from back then. His memory of her from the past was distorting who she was now. She at least had a sense of humor though. "You can laugh John, it's okay." He finally snorted a laugh and followed her to the kitchen to help her with the dishes.

"What else do you do now?" he asked while washing the dishes. Amara stood next to him, rinsing and drying each item and placing it in the drying rack.

"I mostly find new hobbies and don't go out much anymore,” she said candidly, “But, you would be happy to know I took up the violin a few years ago,” she added quickly.

“That’s a nice hobby to have,” he replied woodenly, unable to conjure the proper amount of emotion to truly praise her. After all, she just admitted to being more or less a shut-in. Did he have anything to do with her withdrawal from society? Before he could mention anything else, she interjected.

“I’ll show you to your room,” Amara dried her hands on a hand towel and scooted behind him to grab a set of keys from the dining room table. He followed her through the front door and down the hall until they came to a door without a number. “To tell you the truth,” she stated while unlocking the door, “I was going to make you sleep in my room as my bodyguard.” She opened the door and caught his gaze, “Bodyguard sexual fantasy. I read trashy novels.” She showed zero shame for her words. Was she serious?

Without thinking the words, “Are those your conditions?” left his mouth. At first he wasn’t certain that he had said them, but after a few long moments passed it became very clear that he had, in fact, uttered those words. He and Amara held each other’s gaze for a long while before she shut the door and relocked it.

The trip back to the room was dead silent. Her demeanor hadn’t changed a bit when they got back inside.

 With the same nonchalance she went back to her room and looked around. "It seems I jumped into this idea with very little preparation," he overheard her mumbling while facing her bed. It was certainly large enough for the two of them to sleep comfortably without touching each other. But then again, wasn't that her point? He paused a moment at the realization that he had basically agreed to be whatever she wanted him to be, up to and including a sexual partner. 

The thought did not sit well with him.

She made short work of the problem by pushing in one of her couches that had a pullout mattress. He wasn't particularly surprised to find a revolver rolled up with the mattress. He  _was_ however surprised at the line of Rilakkuma condoms under the sheets. "Unexpired," he murmured out loud.

"I was wondering where those were!" Amara exclaimed excitedly yanking them from his grasp. "They were super cute and I couldn't resist buying them. She examined the individual yellow packages closely, looking for damages.  _She'll probably want to try them out later._ He grimly suspected. The prospect of sex sickened him. After coming off of several weeks of hellish nightmares the last thing he wanted was to embrace another person. And the one person he wanted to embrace was gone forever. Amara had returned with some dawn comforters and pillows (when did she leave?) and was making up the bed. It looked almost like home except the dog was missing. He remembered leaving him with Winston before arriving here. 

"So," she declared after giving the pillows another fluff, "What's for dinner?" She turned and faced him, hands on her hips. Of course he had no idea what to put on the table. Amara quelled his fears by announcing she'd order takeout. He felt helplessly awkward as their personalities were clashing in a way he had no control over. His behavior was ultimately refined and well-mannered while her's was forward and crass. Was she really like this, or was it an act?

"Got any favorite dishes?" Amara inquired as she pulled some takeout menus from her desk drawer. He hardly noticed the small setup she had by her bed that consisted of a small black desk with a drawer on either side with a laptop on the surface. Upon further inspection he saw it was plugged into an outlet underneath. 

"I'm partial to pizza," he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to will himself to relax a little more. But John was a man who couldn't simply  _relax_ at least not anymore. He studied Amara's back that was turned to him as she called. He could see the markings of a tattoo on her exposed midriff but couldn't make out what it was supposed to be. 

"Is supreme alright?" she half-turned to him for approval. He simply nodded in response and she turned back around to complete the order. She tossed her phone on her bed upon hanging up. "It's going to be a while, an hour at least. They'll call us when the driver is out," Amara mumbled with dissatisfaction. "I hoped they'd be less busy today," she continued as she stepped out of the room. John looked at his surroundings and took in more details.

The tiles of her room were black and white like a chessboard which seemed like an odd contrast with the walls which were a surprisingly pleasant shade of pink. She chose interesting renaissance paintings to place on her walls. There were the Three Graces sans Venus he had seen upon coming in, Selene and Endymion that was strategically placed above her bed...and perhaps more disturbingly there was a painting of the Abduction of Persephone by the bathroom. He had no clue why the placement bothered him while the subject matter seemed like it should disturb him more. Then he remembered what she said about the first night he dropped her off at Ruska Roma and was properly disturbed. He shuddered for a moment at the thought. 

"Ah, you've noticed this one," Amara exclaimed. She had returned with several towels and had a bathrobe thrown over her shoulder. She stood next to him to admire the painting for a moment and then hip-checked him. "Come on, we've gotta wash up," she announced as she made her way to the bathroom. Bright, cheery, and well lit didn't even begin to describe it. There were plenty of bright lights and a chandelier in the very center. In the back there were stone steps that led to a deep bathtub. Off to the side of it were sliding glass doors that housed a pretty nice shower. 

He was suddenly taken aback by Amara shedding her clothes.

"I'll...just step out," he immediately turned to leave but she caught him by his arm.

"It's okay, I want us to go together," she said playfully in such a voice that it struck a nerve and aroused him in a way that he didn't expect. He hesitated to look back at the now topless Amara but willed himself to turn around and face her. She reached up and took his tie in her hand and tugged it a little. "It's okay, nothing to be embarrassed about!" she purred bouncing up and down excitedly. Her grin was catlike and expectant, almost as if she knew he would indulge her.  _She knows what I want to do before I do,_ He thought in amusement. Wordlessly he reached up and began loosening his tie to which she full on grinned ear to ear. Without missing a beat she hurried over to turn on the water and plug the tub. 

 _What am I doing?_ He wondered to himself as he undressed. He hadn't touched a woman since Helen and had stifling reservations to doing anything remotely sexual with Amara...but nothing was stopping him. Not even himself. He was down to his briefs and wanted to stop there. He looked over at Amara who was gleefully dropping in bathbombs from the side and felt an knot forming in his stomach. He was almost relieved when she left the bathroom to attend to something, vaguely mentioning "rubber ducks". He took the opportunity to strip down and enter the frothy bubbly water without her seeing him naked. Not that it mattered. 

_Splash!_

A small rubber duck landed in the water, followed by Amara whose shoulders disappeared below the water line. She stood up momentarily to turn off the water but the foam clinging to her hid her bits from view. She gave a sigh of contentment as she relaxed in the comfortably hot water. The foam was a dizzying mix of blues, pinks, and yellows and smelled a little too strongly of tropical. Granted he didn't have any room to complain, he must've smelled dreadful earlier. No amount of pina-colada could get the smell of gunpowder out of his nose.

He was brought out of his head by Amara embracing him, well not so much embracing as tying up his hair. "You look cuter that way", she quipped. He could feel her breasts against his chest and the sensation sent a jolt to his nether regions. As much as he wanted to pretend like nothing was affecting him--he was just one more touch away from completely giving in to his desires. Amara herself wasn't even being overtly erotic at this point; he was just hungry for her.  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is incomplete but more will be added soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John questions his morals when he really shouldn't have any.  
> Then they have pizza.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> (Chapter is incomplete 24.7.19, will add on later)

John was always at odds with himself. He was a man of action yet had problems making his own decisions. He was an amoral assassin, yet dared to have any scruples when it came to sex. Of course this was all too late to consider when Amara was between his legs in the shower giving him the best head of his life. He groaned as she swirled her tongue around the tip of his penis before taking him deep in her mouth again. He wanted so badly to thrust his hips and choke her on his length but he instead decided to enjoy the moment. 

He changed his mind when he lifted her off of him and pushed her backward onto the damp tiles. She landed gracefully, legs splayed to give him an excellent view of her wetness. "I'm sorry," he managed to grunt before thrusting inside her without so much as a glance. She hissed in pain at first and he found her to be uncomfortably tight.  _Note to self: don't skip foreplay._ He had to admit this was slightly out of character for him, fucking the woman he hadn't seen in years on the bottom of a luxury shower.  _What are you doing John?_ The question echoed in his mind just as he came...inside her. 

"Shit! I'm sorry!" he pulled out instantly to avoid spilling the rest of his load inside her. That's what he got for not listening to his gut. Amara lay still, as if stunned, looking blankly at the ceiling with her knees collapsing together.  _What are you doing, John?_ The question came again, this time in Helen's voice. He was frozen, looking at Amara's frame. Her chest heaving as if she was trying to catch her breath, tears streaming from her eyes with no words. Suddenly, she bolted upright and began furiously wiping the tears from her eyes.

"No! This is okay. It's what I wanted," she stated more to herself than John, "I wanted it this time. I definitely wanted it!" The horror creeped up on him at the realization that he had said exactly what that boy had said to her all those years ago.  _She had one of the older boys do it._ **Fuck.** Was she reenacting what happened that night? Before he could respond, she spoke again.

"It's okay," she sniffed, finally meeting his gaze, "It's what I wanted this time," she nodded, continuing to wipe away tears with one hand while propping herself up with the other. John reached out and gently grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him. The voice in his head stopped, the hallucination had vanished. "I'm fine, John," she repeated, trying to pull away, he wouldn't let her. Her cheek remained pressed to his chest  as she still shed some tears. A few minutes passed before he let her go to stand up again. 

"Are you really alright?" he found himself asking out loud as she helped him up. He still felt very uneasy about what just transpired between them. 

"Yeah, it's totally fine. I have really irregular periods and one of my tubes are tied," she said blithely, "I won't be getting pregnant."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about, Ama," he insisted, holding eye contact that she couldn't look away from. She looked at him dumbstruck for a moment before carefully replying.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said slowly, "I just...I...was just..." her voice kept trailing off, "I just wanted to have sex, that's all." She opened the shower door and stepped back into the bathroom. Her hips swayed as she sauntered her way back into the tub. 

"What did you mean by that? 'I wanted it'?" John climbed back into the still-hot water with her facing him. Amara didn't answer right away, opting to push around the yellow rubber duck before speaking again.

"I was...trying to have sex again on my own terms," she finally blurted, "I've had a lot of sex that I didn't exactly want and wasn't initiated by myself. And this was kinda my way of...taking it back..." her tone was uneasy and not very confident. She lacked the coquettish attitude she had early and was speaking seriously. "I knew you were a good man deep down and if there was anyone I'd do this with, it was you," she nodded again, reclining backward. 

John did not have his words for the rest of the bath. In fact, he decided when it was over. He got out and dried himself off before instructing Amari to come out of the tub. She wasn't too happy at being told what to do but she complied. She sat on a small ottoman while he dried her off with a nice towel. Amari reached for a bottle of lotion off of the vanity area next to the sink and started pouring it on her hands and caressing her body. "Could you please get my back?" she requested as she turned around. 

Now he finally got an excellent view of her back and had a moment to gaze upon her tattoo that he had only glimpsed at so far. He found her ink to be rather horrifying in contrast to her bubbly attire and surroundings. It was an illustration of a coffin partially open with a banner of Latin text that roughly translated as ' _t_ _he grave has room for all'_. It even had a rosary hanging from around the coffin lid. "I thought you weren't doing any 'work'?" he inquired, smoothing the lotion over her deep bronze skin.

"I'm not pursuing any 'work'," she explained as he  moved to her arms, "I just provide some supplies here and there...with a chemistry hobby..." she mumbled. John caught the last part and paused a moment.

"Chemistry?" he echoed, moving to her fingertips, absentmindedly entwining her fingers with his. 

"Just some simple experiments, really. Mostly poisons. I have one aphrodisiac I had started but never got around to testing," she said this all very nonchalantly as though she were talking about her hobbies.

"And why an aphrodisiac?" he inquired. Amari turned to face him, her expression equal parts mischievous and excited.

"Sex, duh!" she said in the most deadpan manner she could muster only to burst into laughter. "It's mostly a joke item, I don't think it'll actually work since I didn't test it on people. But if you want to try it out---I could give you a sample..." she drummed her fingertips together and cocked an eyebrow. Suddenly the moment was interrupted by her phone going off. "Ahhh it's pizza!" she lept off the ottoman, grabbed the robe, and was out of the bathroom in blur of pink and white. 

So she  _was_ working under the radar. It was likely Winston approved of her manufacturing as long as she didn't use it on anyone herself. He never took her for a chemistry person though. If he remembered correctly, they had a brief conversation about her schooling and she hadn't done very well in middle school science. With little trouble he was able to find some white cotton pajamas that she had laid out for him and had just buttoned up by the time she returned with the pizza. At least she was keeping her mind busy. 

Minutes later they were both perched on her bed and watching cartoons. She provided some scathing commentary between bites of pizza and occasional sips from wine she had trolleyed in from the kitchen. John politely declined a glass, opting to stay in his senses for a while longer. Amara seemed a bit disappointed in his choice but didn't press the issue. She ended up passing out prematurely with her head on  his shoulder.

Amara was still asleep when he woke up early in the morning. What time was it? Seven? I glanced at his watch, yup. It was right on time. His pullout bed was extremely comfortable and he'd had some of the best sleep he had gotten in weeks. Amari was stirring, clutching a pillow close to her; her hair was wrapped in a red silk bonnet. When did she do that? A moment later she opened her eyes and sat up. 

"Mornin John," she yawned and stretched. "Sleep well?" She hardly paused a moment before she rolled out of bed. 

"I...slept fine, thank you," he pushed off his covers and went to stand up but already she was turning on music and stretching. He watched her curiously as she backbended and walked over with considerable difficulty. 

"I still got it!" she cheered while holding onto the bedpost and heel-stretching to perfection. He'd be lying if he pretended that his dick didn't jump at the sight. _It's too early for this,_ he sighed inwardly. He had just done it last night, why did he want to do it again? Amara may or may not have sensed this and switched to arm stretches instead. 

Amara was moving like clockwork. She pulled him to the bathroom and handed him his own toiletries which included a straight razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, shaving cream, and dental floss. They shared a mirror while they took care of their hygiene. Amara took longer because of her hair which ended up getting done up in a bun. Breakfast ended up being leftover tea sandwiches and coffee. John insisted on making the coffee. It was his only real request he made since he arrived...aside from maybe requesting to be her bodyguard. 

"Come on, it's time to go to the lab," she announced as soon as they were done with their coffee. 

"One more cup?" he offered from the French press.

"Bring it with you," she carefully placed the dishes in the sink and grabbed a set of keys from the  Hello Kitty key ring rack and headed for the door. He was right behind her with a plain white mug. She led them to the elevator which had a keyhole for emergencies. Amara inserted a key and turned it sharply to the left. The car went down to ground level and kept going until it reached a lower level that didn't register on the keypad.

The doors opened up to reveal a rather spacious and well-lit basement. A few steps off and even more lights came on. The space was mostly empty except for a few steps that lead further down. It honestly looked like a secret lab with all the doors lining the walls. He also noted the place was well-ventilated...maybe a little bit  _over_ ventilated. She had taken quite a few precautionary measures for the sake of safety. There were even slits to let in natural sunlight.

Moments later they were suited up and in her poison lab. It was rather...plain. It was as if she hadn't used it in a while. That was until she lifted the wall to show a surprising array of vials filed away in different sections. He thought it looked like an apothecary station.

"There isn't a lot going on right now. Most assassins are caught up with handheld weapons that they forget about other methods," Amara sighed. "I only have a few clients but they pay pretty well." She walked over to the section marked 'Antidotes/Antivenom'. "Have you considered taking some antivenom yourself?" she asked in a surprisingly casual voice.

"No I haven't, are you telling me to?" 

"It's just a recommendation," she countered, "Once somebody discovers that several assassinations have occurred via poison, everyone will be up in arms. It'll cause---chaos." In that moment it seemed that Amara had realized that she was good for having so few clients. Should more people start requesting poison services it could get  _very_ messy. "Well...if not an antivenom, would you like an aphrodisiac instead?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I added more to Chapter 2 before starting this chapter. I hope you enjoy!


	4. Absolute Euphoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little push throws him over the edge.

At first the idea of trying an aphrodisiac seemed laughable to him. After all, aphrodisiacs only worked when you had a low libido. Drugs like Viagra only worked to keep erections going. What could Amara possibly concoct that would trigger sexual desire? She lead him from the Poison Lab to another lab at the end of the rows of doors. The room didn't look like a lab at first glance. The subtle hints were on the wall on the left. Much like the other lab there were files of vials stored at different clear cabinets. 

"First of all, I'll let you know that these haven't been tested on any humans. They are safe to use though. At worst they should be ineffective," Amara began to explain while she began to set up for the trial. The room was separated into two halves by a glass wall. One medical and the other...could only be described as a "love nest". It had a decent sized bed (low to the floor) with lots of pillows and covers. The black tiles contrasted with the white ones he was standing on. "...give me just a moment, I need to change." Amara was saying as she disappeared briefly and returned wearing a sexy nurse outfit. The sight made him raise an eyebrow in curiosity.

"A nurse? Really?" he mused, admiring her outfit. It clung to her in all the right places and exposed the others. The cute little nurse hat was pinned to her hair and a real stethoscope hung from around her neck. Did she have actual medical experience?

"It's my personal fetish, not yours," Amara muttered begrudgingly, "I do have medical experience. No licensing tho as I'm off the books. Over here." She led him to an examining table and had him sit down. She quickly and carefully took his vitals, taking special note to the amount of body damage he had taken over the past 6 months. "Hmmm," she frowned as she looked at her notes, "While you are healthy enough to be taking this drug, I'm going to have to urge you to take it easy afterwards. You've taken  _a lot_ of physical damage but your respiratory system seems in good shape. That said, do you consent to taking this trial drug?"

"I do," came his simple reply.

"Now to explain how this drug is supposed to work," she hung up the clipboard, "You know how testosterone is the base hormone for sexual desire? I'm trying to  _amplify_ that. What I need to do is trigger sexual arousal: increased blood flow to the genitals, increase heart rate, relaxing the inhibitions---not roofies though, they make you compliant. We need horny, but in berserk mode." She was alarmingly precise about what she wanted to do and it made him a little nervous. "Ah fuck, I have to get the lube," she opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle filled with pink liquid, "It'll come in handy." She reassured him as she dropped it off to the other side of the room. "Lets get started shall we?"

She prepared a dose and tied off his arm with a tourniquet. This made him feel like an addict in need of a fix. "Now be warned, this will hurt just a bit. You'll feel better soon," Amara's voice was surprisingly smooth to his ears. Was that because he was already attracted to her? He looked over at her examining his arm for a vein and poking it with her gloved fingers. "You've got good veins," she commented. This made her sound like a vampire which may or may not have made her more attractive to him. A vampire nurse? Kind of silly but sexy too? She picked up the syringe which was filled with a clear liquid and injected him with what had to be 40mL of a drug that was never administered to anyone before.

"Now before we remove the tourniquet I'm going to move you to the bed so you can be more comfortable," Amara lead him to the other side of the room and had him sit on the bed. So far he didn't feel anything because it hadn't hit his bloodstream. Carefully she removed the barrier and sat on the small loveseat adjacent him. She had her clipboard and was keeping a close eye on him. Five seconds passed, then ten.

Time slowed for a moment and then it stopped.

_Then it hit him._

He felt a tingling sensation that crawled across his entire body. His mouth began to salivate. His heart started beating faster. He clutched his head in his hands; trying to comprehend the feeling that came over him. He could feel it in his veins going through every inch of his body. His dick began to harden between his legs and was so sensitive he could feel the sensations of the fabric against his skin. His nipples hardened and his chest burned. His breaths came in hot pants, as if he had been edged and denied countless times.

"How're you feeling, John?" Amara cooed teasingly, kneeling down in front of him. His eyes shot up and bored into hers. He felt a lust-hot rage burn through him. Her teasing was too much. The costume, her nearly bare cleavage right there in front of him. He could smell her wetness between her legs. Her expression was smug, lips parted but just barely, stained pink and taunting.

"What do you fucking think?" he growled and covered his face with his hands. His penis was now straining against pants, precum was forming on the tip and it could be seen through the white fabric.

"Is it  _torture?_ " she probed again. John snapped.

He grabbed her by her dress lapels and threw her on the bed, ripping it open as he did so. Buttons popped off and went flying.

"Is it torture?" he growled, trying to maintain a bit of control over himself, but he had gone too far. Amara was sprawled out on the bed, dress open and breasts exposed. Her grin taunted him, and the way she closed her legs tantalized him. He didn't even bother taking off her panties and instead opted to move them to the side as he finger-fucked her, fingers properly lubed this time. Her cries of delight sent shudders through his body. He was aching for more. 

"You are such a tease," he breathed hotly in her ear as he scissored his fingers inside her, "Is it that much fun to mess with me?" He looked deep in her eyes, not expecting to find an answer and without breaking eye contact he teased her with the tip of his dick before shoving it all in at once. Her eyes grew wide instantly, her smug expression replaced by shock. A gasp escaped her lips which made him pause for a moment, but when she wrapped her arms around his neck and panted for him to keep going, how could he  _not_ oblige?

Everything became a blur of sensations. He could scarcely keep track of what was happening. Was she on top? Was he behind her? He was throbbing, slamming his hips into hers. Wanting more, pulling out, and driving himself into her. He wanted to cum more than anything and he was almost there. His hips had a mind of their own. Amara's moans and whines only drove him harder. Her hands were against the wall, barely able to stand against his wild thrusting. It was building to a tipping point.

She turned partway around and grinned slyly at him and between pants she moaned, "S vami veselo svyazyvat'sya*, John." That threw him over the edge.

An unknown amount of time later John woke up with his arm wrapped around Amara's waist. He had his legs on the bed and the other half of him was on the floor, surrounded by pillows and half covered up by the blanket that had fallen with him. Amara was curled up next to him, wrapped up in a sheet and snoring softly. The room was in complete disarray, pillows were everywhere he could see without raising his head. He was vaguely aware of the small trails of the pink lube that dotted the floor.  _What all happened?_

As he slowly came to his senses he became aware of how his body ached with pleasure. While his heart rate was back to normal he could still feel the lingering effects of the aphrodisiac. Amara was still mostly asleep, stirring slightly as if she was dreaming. As carefully as he could, he took his arm from around her and tried to sit back up. It was almost like he was hungover from euphoria. Bits and flashes of what happened earlier. Those bits and pieces of memories were... **graphic**. He remembered Amara's hair flying about wildly, the contrast of his cum against her dark skin, her wild hungry kisses. The panting...oh god the panting. He held his breath to be sure he wasn't breathing heavy again.

John sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands again. He peered at Amara's sleeping form still curled up on the floor and felt something strange--not quite guilt but something like it--wash over him. He stood up again and picked her up as carefully as he could and placed her on the bed next to him. He sat facing away from her and looked at the wall. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"How was it?" came Amara's husky voice. He looked behind him to see that she was awake, dark eyes peering up at him and a satisfied grin on her face.

"It was..." he searched for the words, " _fun_ , I guess." He wasn't sure if that was quite the word he was looking for.

"I tried to have it mimic the effects of ecstasy. I might have overdone it a bit," Amara sat up and stretched, sheet sliding down her decidedly athletic form. John felt his eyes following her curves, nearly entranced.  _Like a painting._ She seemed to have no qualms about be naked around him.

"Ecstasy?" he echoed.

"It was supposed to stimulate the senses, make colors brighter and increase sensitivity," she continued to move as she spoke, detangling her hair and cracking her knuckles. "You...don't take a lot of drugs, do you?" She took a glance at his exhausted form.

"Not very many," he thought about the painkillers that he had used liberally in the past six months. Getting weaned off of them was a struggle of its own. He turned to see that Amara had found her clipboard and was taking more notes. She also had her stethoscope and was taking his vitals again. 

"The effects lasted for about an hour," she observed, "And they were pretty intense too." She chewed on her lip, "But we're going for quality and not quantity so...how would you rate your experience?"

He laughed at that line. 

Once again they were in the shower. His senses were slowly returning back to normal. It had taken them 10 minutes to get back to the 5th floor, 5 minutes to get in the shower, and 30 seconds before he started questioning whether or not he was still horny. Amara noticed his hardness and asked, "Do you need help with that?" She reached for his hand, asking for permission rather than taking what she wanted. Instead he pushed her hand away.

"It'll go away on his own," he stated firmly. Amara withdrew her hand and went back to showering, turning her back to him in the process. He couldn't help but notice her generous hips and high rear end that he had previously ignored. Instead of taking in the sight he turned his back and bit his lip to give him something else to concentrate on. It was a long fifteen minutes before he was out and ready to dress.

Afterwards he felt more normal and less on edge. His suit was cleaned and maintained and was laid out on the bed. He quickly dressed and was adjusting his tie when Amara came out of the bathroom drying her hair. She wasn't wearing pink this time and instead opted for a short off-shoulder black dress that draped in the back, fully exposing her tattoo. She was brushing her hair out and braiding it, speaking and moving at the same time.

"All that sex had me work up an appetite! Are you ready for lunch?" she asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (12/08/2019) Thanks for dropping by and reading this pure smut chapter! I'll be adding more to it later this week!
> 
> *A google translated sentence in Russian that says "You are fun to mess with". I meant to convey that Amara likes to mess with/play with John sexually.


	5. The Music Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The language of music is universal.

"So tell me John, when did all this begin and why?" Amari had curry simmering on the stove and the rice cooker was minutes from chiming. 

"I thought you knew the story. Word travels." John replied from the small kitchen table.

"Yes, and I want to hear it from  _you_ ," Amari half-turned from the stove, wiping her hands on her apron. John thought she looked kind of silly wearing what was basically a backless party dress with such a heart-shaped apron. It was...extremely milf-ish. She set the table with two mugs and a french press full of freshly brewed coffee, two plates, and a set of spoons.

"I...just couldn't stop," were the first words that came to his mind, "It was one thing after another--what was I supposed to do?" he didn't look up to meet Amari's gaze. She didn't give an answer. Instead she brought the curry to the table and set it on the potholder she had placed there, along with the rice cooker.

"I can't answer your questions, I just want to hear your story, that's all," Amari started filling up her plate, "We do have a lot of talking to do."

"Yes," came his one-word answer. Silence followed.

The curry was way spicier than he was used to but still had remarkable flavor. He had already finished his glass of water and was getting up for another when he noticed Amari's smirk as he passed her.

"Starting to sweat already?" she chided him teasingly. He coughed and tried to play it off.

"Is it that obvious?" he downed half a glass before sitting down again. What kind of spice did she use? The water only made it worse! His mouth was watering as if to put out the flames on his tongue. It wasn't working. What did she put in this?

"Milk won't exactly help, you'll just have to wait it out," he was doomed. She was getting up and fixing something on the counter in...another teacup. "Here you go. It'll help." She sat down and folded her hands under her chin. John picked up the cup and slowly drank the contents.

"Honey?" he guessed.

"Milk and honey," Amari corrected, "I learned it from a manga I read."

"Manga? Really?" he might have meant to mock her, but it was hard to look serious when his face was bright red. Amari laughed.

"You should see yourself, you look terrible," she pushed a honeypot towards him and covered  her mouth with her other hand, "Mental note, nobody has been able to survive this curry. It is unbeatable."

...

Once he had simmered down they were in the music room. It was a neat little area with a gorgeous skylight. The room had two luxurious chairs and a window seat that looked over the city. Looking through it he could see the garden below. 

"I keep that garden for the people," Amari was explaining as she opened her violin case, "I remember when gardens were the only thing that could keep me going." He turned from the window to see she was tuning a black electric violin, leaning against a baby grand piano.

"I thought you told me you played the violin," he countered.

"I do, this is just electric,"  she was a bit indignant.

"It's not you," he sat down on the window seat, "I know it's not you." He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Amari placed the instrument on a stand and opened another case, this time she procured a pure black violin with gold strings. He held back a grin of approval. "Show me what you've learned," he requested. Amari snorted and began to play. He recognized Moonlight Sonata drifting from the instrument. He could tell her technique was sloppy even though she played near perfectly.

Was she trying to impress him? No, she had only been playing for a few years, and yet he could tell she had something resembling passion for the music. Her stance wasn't stiff, it was comfortable, relaxed, serene. Her eyes were closed as if she were imagining being somewhere else...as if he wasn't there. Inadvertently in his admiration he realized his eyes were traveling up her legs. He became aware of the absence of her bandages from before. Why had she been wearing them in the first place? His eyes kept going back to the place where her thighs came together and he felt the twinges of desire starting to surface. 

 _No, I'm not that kind of man._ He argued with himself. He hadn't actively thought about sex until the time arose, he was able to focus better than this. She was showing him her hobby that she had picked up, her playing was very nice! Why would he ruin her like this? Why was he thinking of her like this?  _She wanted you from the_ _beginning, you can express interest now without feeling guilty. You've already done it twice._ Once out of obliging and the second under the influence-- _Influence you agreed to!_ The back and forth was making his head dizzy. He shook his head twice and took a deep breath. The simmering in his nether-regions wasn't going away. How would she react to his advances? There was only one way...

He got up and sauntered over to her, "Keep playing," he ordered.

He inspected her playing and realized her problem. Her nails were too long, an amateur mistake that she should've known better...not like her at all. He gently grabbed her right hand, the playing stopped. He brought her hand closer to his face so he could see. They were a soft pink and glittery with the kanji for "poison princess" on them. It quietly occurred to him that she may or may not have planned this so he would come closer to her. When he had trained her in the past he had always warned her about keeping her nails long and being preoccupied with their appearance. She'd remember something like that to bring him close enough.

"What kind are these?" he queried.

"They're just pearl-dipped and almond shaped, 15 millimeters long, nothing more," she tried to take her wrist away, he didn't budge. He could smell her scent: coffee and curry from the kitchen mixed with something else he didn't recognize but she smelled _very good_. He hadn't been this close since the morning and at the time he was out of his mind. Now he was sober and could take in everything. Everything. Speaking of which, he wanted payback for earlier. He placed his left arm around her waist and pulled her to him, causing the skirt of her dress to ride up dangerously high. 

"Keep playing," he released her right hand and she resumed playing cautiously. He gently kissed the area behind her ear and watched her tremble to keep composure. He reached under her dress and massaged her clit through her panties. She was already damp--and apparently had been for quite a long time. He felt her squeeze her thighs together to prevent him from going any further. Of course, that wasn't going to stop him...unless that's what she wanted. Emboldened, he kissed the nape of her neck which made her gasp.

"You know, the problem with fancy nails is that they mess with your fingering," he pushed aside her panties and inserted his middle finger into her. Her playing started to unravel. She seemed incredibly sensitive to his touch and was trying not to moan, but he could feel her pulse in her thigh getting stronger. "The shorter your nails are," he explained while inserting another finger, "the easier your movements will be." The combination of his voice and his fingering caused her to collapse across the top of the piano, her legs quivering in excitement. "But you already knew that, didn't you Ama?" he slowly thrust his fingers in and out of her, being careful to tease her just enough to get a reaction.

Amari was draped over the closed piano case, panting hotly. Her bare back was arching in such a tantalizing way that he couldn't help but nip her shoulder and squeeze her breast with his free hand. She hissed in pleasure, wanting more...but would he give it to her?  _No, not yet. Punish her first._ He thought playfully, removing his hand from under her dress. She looked back in disappointment.

"Why'd you stop?" she demanded, straightening her posture and fixing her dress, "I was enjoying that you know!" 

"I know," he said, glancing at his fingers, "You--" whatever lecture he had planned died on his lips when Amari grabbed his hand and started licking his fingers. The sensation of her tongue against his skin sent shivers down his spine. He felt his breath hitch in his throat when she took his middle and index finger in at the same time, swirling her tongue around them both and then separately. He yanked his had away in shock. "How do you do that?" he exclaimed.

"Do what?" her expression was one part confused, one part coy. She hiked her dress up to expose her scant panties that she pulled down and stepped out of. "I don't know what you mean." She came close to him, so close he could feel the lust vibrating from her. She gently grabbed his tie, just like before, pressing her hips against his groin. He reached up and cupped her chin in his hand.

"You know," he growled bringing his face dangerously close to hers, "exactly what I mean, Ama." In one swift movement he scooped her up and had her on the window seat with his face between her thighs. He could feel her excitement building as he devoured her hungrily, tongue caressing her pussy in achingly slow circles. Amari was trying to stay quiet even though there was only the two of them; it was as if she were embarrassed at the sounds she was making. He nipped the inside of her thigh playfully and heard her yelp and beg him to keep going. He gripped her thighs and adjusted her so he could have full access to her.

She went wild.

A few minutes later she was at her limit, collapsed on the floor with her legs shaking. "I thought you had a little more endurance than that," John chided her, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. Amari's shaky laughter erupted from her spot on the floor as she struggled to sit up.

"Help, please," she raised up an arm, still laughing. He grasped her arm and pulled her up to sitting position. He sat on the floor under the window with Ama sitting between his legs, her body propped up against his chest. "That was...breathtaking," she finally spoke, "Just a sec." She leaned forward and pulled her dress over her head. He followed suit, removing his shirt and jacket before finally deciding to ditch the pants as well. The room was warm and the carpet was soft.

They settled back to their positions and said nothing for a while. Finally John broke the silence, "Were you waiting for me? All this time?" Amari pulled her deep tawny legs up to her chest and didn't reply right away.

"I..." her voice wavered, "I'm not sure," came her doubtful response, "For a while I told myself that wasn't what I was doing." She paused and then continued, "But I guess this was what I wanted, to see you again."

"Ama..." he began, "I can't---"

"I know," she resigned, "And I know better." She gently placed her hands on his kneecaps. He placed his hands over hers, entwining their fingers together. 

"What did you want from me?" he asked.

"I don't know," she whispered. He felt that she was lying, trying to preserve a sense of normalcy. They were both more alike than he wanted to admit. They both new how to kill and they wanted to live normal lives. He lived with a wife and a concrete slab holding back the past. Now that she was gone the past came back with a vengeance. Amari had experienced too many things to even attempt a normal life and she had closed herself off in this building. 

"Are you...working again?" her voice interrupted his thoughts and she shifted against his chest, her cheek on his collarbone, "Are you back?" He took a deep breath and thought about the time he was tied to a chair and beaten within an inch of his life in front of Viggo. He had been asked that question over and over and it slowly became obvious to him what the answer was. He had talked with Winston at the Continental and he was warned of the awful truth. "You remember what they say about eating faerie food in Arcadia?" He didn't answer. "They say that if you eat anything, no matter what it is--"

"You can never go home again," he finished her sentence grimly. He felt his heart darkening at those words. He heard Amari sniffle once and felt something drip down his chest. He didn't have to look down to know she was crying. She always tried to mask her feelings but was terrible at it. He remembered how she turned away from him and refused to look back when he left her at Ruska Roma. And there was one time he saw her in passing at the theater almost 10 years later; she had recognized him and they locked eyes. Her facial expression didn't change and she had turned away and walked back inside.  _Why did I remember that?_ he asked himself. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Amari's fingers stroking his hair, the action sent a shiver down his spine so disturbing he had to push her hand away. Only Helen had touched him that way and no one had touched him since. He hadn't even cut his hair since her funeral. Such an act was far too intimate for him. She had shifted her position to face him. He realized his hand was on her wrist and quickly let go before pushing his hair out of his eyes. He couldn't look her in the eye without feeling like he would scream or cry any moment. He felt a tear about to fall and covered it up by rubbing his eyes. 

"Oh, I'm sorry," she began to apologize, but before she could go further he had her bent over the piano again, fucking her senseless.  _Yeah, you can't kiss or have your hair stroked but you'll fuck this woman until she can't stand. What are you doing John?_

And for once he told the voice to shut up.  _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm down to 2 more chapters before this short story ends! I hope you liked this one!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! While I'm trying to get inspiration back for Eos: Mirror of Truth I decided a kind-of oneshot fanfiction of John Wick. It's supposed to be a kind of side-story and only a few chapters long. I hope you like it and find it kind of cute/sexy/whatever.


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